Things Unspoken
by eirenealetheia
Summary: Summary: It's just one of those long, lonely nights, and Elizabeth is unable to sleep. She finds herself walking around Atlantis... This is a short fic with some reference to the Shep and Weir relationship. I'd really love feeback!


Elizabeth kicked the washing machine in a rare show of frustration, muttering angrily to herself. One would think that with the Ancients technology being so advanced, it would have been possible to invent a washing machine that didn't chew socks and commit other atrocious crimes their Earth counterparts were so guilty of.

She watched the washing baskets trundle about their daily work, and immediately felt thankful they hadn't been paying her any attention. Ever since Rodney had somehow made them come to life, those who ventured into the Laundromat had to watch how they treated the "laundry staff" in fear of retribution by these vengeful baskets.

After loading another armful of linen into one of the machines, Elizabeth slumped back against the wall, sliding to sit on the ground. She cradled her head in her hands and sighed. It was moments like this where it all seemed to sneak up on her. Just when she thought she was coping with everything, fading memories from her past and growing fears for the future would wash over her. Her broken relationship with Simon. The constant, growing threat of the Wraith. She wondered how she could stay strong in such a time. The people of Atlantis – her people – needed a strong leader. She had to be there for them.

Startled by the sound of the Laundromat doors opening, Elizabeth hastily jumped to her feet.

"John…" She said with surprise, "I- I wasn't expecting anyone else to be down here so late." She glanced at her watch. 12:53AM.

"Sorry Elizabeth," Sheppard started repentantly, glancing at the floor, "I was just on patrol. Didn't think anyone would be in this part of the city now." He slowly turned back to the doors to leave.

Elizabeth sighed, rocking back on her heels, "Sorry, John. I didn't mean to be so… hasty."

He turned back to face her, his eyes meeting hers, so full of understanding.

"It's just-"

"I know," He gently whispered, stopped her mid-sentence, his eyes steady on hers.

She smiled at him despondently, subtly avoiding meeting his direct gaze, as he turned, walking out of the automated Laundromat doors.

After returning to her washing, Elizabeth paused to reflect on what had just passed. Despite the unspoken understanding between them, she felt so alienated in her troubles. How could she turn to him when he had worries of his own?

"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," She ruefully mumbled to herself. The name itself seemed to carry such a burden.

She slowly shook her head, leaning against a dryer. The whirr of washing machines and dryers, the rattle of the bustling baskets; the noise seemed to engulf her. She stood, eyes closed, alone.

The city was quiet. Not a soul was stirring – or at least one could be lead to believe that with the silence. The eerie silence. A shiver ran down Elizabeth's spine as she sat alone in her room, her ankles crossed, hugging her knees to her chest. It was the lonely nights that got to her. Not dissimilar to the imaginary monsters hidden under her bed as a child, she feared the Wraith. She feared they were creeping through the city, unbeknown to the citizens, ready and waiting to pounce. She also missed the intimacy of her relationship with Simon. In retrospect, she could see he wasn't right for her. Her participation in the expedition to Atlantis had only hastened the inevitable. Thus, she deduced, it wasn't him that she missed, moreso it was what their relationship had given her – someone to hold, a supportive shoulder to cry on, all that she could no longer have.

"Why?" She whispered to herself, resentment and regret in her voice, "Why does it have to be like this?"

Elizabeth stared out her window over the city, lost in thought. Knowing now she wouldn't sleep, regardless of how long she laid in her bed, she decided a short walk was in order. Looking down at what she was wearing, a watermelon pink tank top and striped cotton pyjama shorts, she decided she was decent enough for a late-night stroll. Besides, if she carefully picked her route, she should avoid encountering the soldiers on patrol.

Quietly, she tiptoed barefoot down the empty corridors, occasionally glancing over her shoulder. Ironically, she was reminded of the many times as a child she played Hide and Seek with her friends. She had become very good at stealthily sneaking unseen through trees, houses, or whatever environment they were playing in. These skills had stayed with her to her teenage years, where she had exploited them to evade her parents' questioning, sneaking out her window at night to do whatever it was teenage girls wished to do. She chuckled quietly as she walked, remembering how, without fail, her parents were always waiting for her when she returned home.

Elizabeth rounded a corner. Just up ahead, there should be a transporter on her right, and the mess should be at the end of the hall. She stopped dead in her tracks. There was no transporter, and the mess was certainly not down this corridor! Rather, the dark hallway was lined with doorways, each closed.

"I'm lost…" She though to herself helplessly, as her began heart beating faster. With her radio in her room, there was no way she could even call for help.

Drawing in a long breath, she surveyed her surroundings. She had no option but to get herself out of this. She closed her eyes, trying to focus. Oh, if only there was a light on! She slowly slid her back down the wall, sitting on the ground.

"Oh, what was I thinking?" She inwardly groaned, rubbing both her hands over her face. A solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

She jumped with a start at the sound of someone coughing. Her mind went into overdrive. Coughing? She quietly climbed to her feet and began tiptoeing along the hall, counting the doorways as she went. At the third, she stopped, listening intently. At the sound of someone shuffling across the room on the other side of the door, she knocked. The doors promptly opened.

"Elizabeth?" A confused John Sheppard stood leaning on the door frame, hair ruffled, wearing boxers and a grey USAF t-shirt.

"Oh… I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" Elizabeth shifted uneasily where she stood, glancing from John, to the ground, and back.

"No…no, of course not." He replied, still taken aback by her unexpected coming. He ushered her into his room, closing the door behind them.

Immediately feeling self-conscience, perhaps even a little foolish, Elizabeth stood by the door, examining her fingernails. She couldn't look him in the eye. Why had she come here? Had she really been lost?

John pulled at the covers on his bed, straightening them up from the rumpled mess they were. Sitting at the foot of the bed facing her, he shrugged, "So…?" He was clearly as uneasy about the situation as she was.

"I, um…" She trailed off, pressing her lips into a straight line. Averting her eyes to the ceiling, she willed the tears not to fall.

"Hey, hey," Whispering soothingly, John stood, taking a step towards her. "Come here."

Awkwardly, she walked forward. He held her in a gentle embrace, one hand on her shoulder, the other resting on her lower back. Closing her eyes, she relaxed, leaning her head against his shoulder and absorbed his warmth. Again, her tears began to silently fall, but now she let them come, comforted by John holding her.

As they parted, John noticed her tear streaked face. Without asking why, he dabbed at her cheeks, his eyes fixed on hers. For once, Elizabeth didn't attempt to avoid his intense gaze. Instead, she found comfort there. His eyes reflected the same burden of responsibility and fear that she felt in her own heart, an unspoken bond between them. He didn't have to ask what troubled her – he already knew.


End file.
